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David Ball
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Old Folks at Home (Swanee River)
Way down upon the Swanee River,
Far, far away,
That's where my heart is turning ever,
That's where the old folks stay.
All up and down this whole creation
Sadly I roam,
Still longing for the old plantation,
And for the old folks at home.
All the world is dark and dreary,
Everywhere I roam;
Oh, brother, how my heart grows weary,
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Far from the old folks at home!
When will I see the bees a-humming
All round the comb?
When will I hear the banjo strumming,
Down in my good old home?
All the world is dark and dreary,
Everywhere I roam;
Oh, brother, how my heart grows weary,
Far from the old folks at home!
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